


Smile (Like You Mean it)

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Drinking, Eliot can't help but stare, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Language, M/M, Quentin is adorable and awkward, Tooth Rotting Fluff, every day magic, purple polka-dotted umbrellas and lots of rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: The two girls, and 'Cute Guy' must have come together, and intend to leave together because 'Cute Guy' is still at the bar when Eliot gets back.  Now, however, he just looks defeated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Champagneking70](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Champagneking70).



> This might become a multi-chapter fic, it might not. I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> I got inspired to write a bar AU where Eliot meets a flustered Quentin when Quentin is dragged out for a night by his roommate Julia and her girlfriend Kady. I got encouraged to actually write it by someone over on Tumblr so here it is.
> 
> Mostly fluff, some swearing, some drinking. Enjoy!

The bar isn't quite busy enough just yet to not notice as new people walk in, and a group of three means a possibility for a better tip, which is enough to push Eliot in their direction. The girls are clearly a couple, a new one if he's at all good at judging such things. They are all smiles, hand holding, and giggles as the one with a loose curl to her long hair orders two cosmos. 

“And what about you?” Eliot turns his attention, and smile, towards the guy who had come in with them. He's cute and uncomfortable. Eliot wonders what bet he lost that had forced him into a public setting for the evening. 

“Um, just a jack and coke, I guess.” The guy's fingers play with a lock of hair for an instant before it is tucked back behind his ear. Eliot sets three glasses on the bar and gets to work. The jack and coke is boring, but easy enough, so he finishes that first, before starting on the girl's cocktails. Loose curls, Julia, Eliot finds out when she passes over her card, starts a tab for the three of them and then the ladies disappear towards the dance floor with their drinks. Their friend looks like he intends to protest before his shoulders slump and he pulls out his phone. A moment later he's pulling out a bar stool and sliding onto it. 

From his angle behind the bar, Eliot can't see what he's reading. Nor is he really interested, well he is, because who goes out for an evening with the intention of sitting alone with a book? 

“If you need anything my name is Eliot.” He tells the guy. 

“Uh, thank you.” The lock of hair had fallen free, and Eliot watched as quick fingers moved to push it back again with practiced ease. 

“Hey, El...” The call for his attention pulls his gaze away from the cute guy, and he heads towards the other end of the bar. The place is getting busier, and it takes about 20 minutes to get back to check on him. His drink is down to melting ice, and he's still staring at his phone. 

“Refill?” 

“God please.” Eliot can't stop the amused smile as he dumps the ice into the nearby sink and starts fresh. He barely has time to put the refreshed drink on the counter before someone is waving a card in his direction and shouting an order. The girls come back when Eliot is too far away, and it's too noisy to hear their conversation. He can make guesses, though, because they have a guy in tow, and he watches as awkward introductions are made. Cute Guy shakes the other guy's hand, and there's a faint flush of embarrassment that colors his cheeks. 

The girls flag him down, order a second round of cosmos, and disappear again. The guys stay, though, and Eliot can hear bits of the conversation as the two try to make small talk. There's an offer to dance, and Eliot is a little surprised when it's accepted. Cute guy abdicates his bar stool and lets himself be guided into the press of people. He's back at the bar not fifteen minutes later, and he hovers until a seat gets abandoned. 

The phone comes back out, and Eliot watches him read when he finds a spare second. He knows the moment the screen goes dark, and the battery dies because the poor guy drops it down on the bar and tosses his hands in exasperation. It's adorable, and Eliot shouldn't care so much. The guy obviously isn't comfortable in a bar, and he'll never show up here again. Eliot is willing to put money on it. 

With no phone to occupy his hands the guy starts to fidget. His fingers tap against the counter-top, and he gets tenser as the minutes pile up. Eliot's break rolls around, and he expects the poor guy to have left by the time he gets back. Just in case he grabs his phone charger and slips it into his pocket after he finishes his cigarette. 

The two girls and Cute Guy must have come together, and intend to leave together because Cute Guy is still at the bar when Eliot gets back. Now, however, he just looks defeated. He's resting his chin against crossed arms and is looking at the shelves of liquor bottles with a blank stare. It isn't Eliot's place to get involved, but he takes pity on the poor guy and starts mixing him a drink. It's fun and fruity and bright. Eliot hopes it'll pick up his spirits a little. He puts it down directly in the young man's line of sight and gives him his best smile when he lifts his head to say he hadn't ordered it. 

Eliot leans over the bar, because it's noisy and hard to hear, let alone be heard. 

“It's on me. Give me your phone.” The guy frowns at him, and Eliot produces the charger from his pocket. It's not an expensive charger. It's one he picked up for ten bucks at a gas station. If it disappears, it won't be any significant loss. The relieved smile that splits across the guy's face is as brilliant as the sun, and births butterflies in Eliot's stomach. Their fingers brush as Cute Guy hands over his phone and Eliot plugs the cord into a power strip behind the bar. “What's your name?” He asks before he hands the charging appliance back. He is sick of calling Cute Guy 'Cute Guy' in his head. 

“Quentin.” Eliot offers him his phone and pushes the drink closer with two long fingers. 

“Relax a little, Q. Don't let your friends pick your partners. You don't have to go home with anyone. Drink that, then go have a little fun.” He purrs before going back to the rest of his patrons. He doesn't know why he is bothering. All of his efforts aren't even likely to earn him a better tip. A few minutes pass before Quentin flags him down again. The drink is half gone. 

“Can I leave this here to charge?” 

“I can put it down below the bar, but if it disappears, I'm not responsible.” Quentin hesitates, then nods and pushes it closer for Eliot to hide. He takes his drink and heads off to find his friends. Eliot is a little proud of him for taking the advice he'd been given, and disappointed to see him go. Having someone pretty to glance at, who hadn't been trying to flirt with him, or endlessly demanding his attention had been nice. 

He catches a glimpse or two of Quentin throughout the night and gets to talk to him again when he comes back to order a second round of what Eliot had made him before. Eliot adds the second drink to Julia's tab and watches Quentin disappear into the press of people. The crowd is starting to thin as they get closer towards the last call and it's easier to watch him. Watching is a mistake because HE and the guy Quentin ends up eventually making out with, share a passing resemblance. They are both tall and slim, with dark curly hair. Eliot can't bring himself to even look after that, and he busies himself with starting to clean up and his remaining customers.

The girls come back for a final round of drinks and Julia closes out the tab. The tip is passable, not great. Eliot isn't going to complain; she could have tipped him nothing. Quentin joins the pair and the three stand around the bar chatting. Eliot ignores them until Quentin leans against the bar and calls for him. 

“Can I get a water?” He asks once Eliot is back in range. 

“With or without ice?” 

“A little ice, oh, and my phone, if it's still there.” Quentin rakes his hand through his hair and blushes. He's still as adorable as he was when he walked in, maybe more so when he's just shy of tipsy. Eliot gets the water first and puts that down in front of Quentin, then walks down the bar to get the phone. There is a twenty between Quentin's fingers when he gets back. 

“For me?” Eliot purrs as he takes the bill. 

“Yeah, you really made the night bearable. Thank you.” 

“It's nothing.” Eliot tells him. “Your friends shouldn't have left you.” Quentin shoved his phone into his back pocket, and his hands into the front ones. He shrugs with his shoulders.

“It happens.” 

“Q, hurry up, our Uber is here.” 

“That's my, I have to um, it was nice meeting you.” Quentin fixes the errant lock of hair he's been playing with all night. “Thanks again.” He finishes before darting away to join his friends as they head out the door. The place has started to clear and there are only a few stragglers left. 

“Well he's certainly cute.” 

“Fuck off, Mike.” Eliot tells the older bartender. “I saw him first, besides he won't be back. He was miserable all night.” Eliot shoved the twenty into his pocket and got a rag to wipe down the counter. He wishes he'd thought of adding his number to Quentin's phone when he'd had it at his disposal, but the moment's past now, and that would have been weird and too forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot doesn't expect Quentin to come back, but he's thrilled when he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has become a multi-chapter fic, at least a 2 chapter fic. If it continues to get good reception it could become a three or four chapter fic.
> 
> All of you are lucky! I normally wait about 5 days or so between chapters, but I have a long weekend and this is fresh and so much fun to write!

The playful smack to his ass makes Eliot jump and almost drop his cigarette. 

“You owe me $10 bucks, El.” Mike purrs as the older man's arm circles his waist.

“For what?” Eliot asks as he leans into the hold. Mike isn't a boyfriend, but they've been together, and they are friends enough that casual contact is welcome at the right moments. Work isn't a place he'd typically allow it, but Eliot has been feeling down. It's not a depressed down, just a funk he can't shake, one that's been lingering through the week and spikes when he closes his eyes. 

He shouldn't have paid Quentin so much attention. He is getting burned for it now. The guy's smile is branded into his brain, right beside the memory running on a loop of Quentin making out with some random asshole. Eliot has zero right or room to be jealous. Realistically he knows that, especially after he'd encouraged Quentin to have a little fun. Mike's teeth catch his earlobe which makes Eliot shiver and his toes curl. 

“That guy you've been obsessing over came back,” Mike tells him. The whisper is an inch from his ear, and it makes the hairs on Eliot's arms stand on end. Eliot laughs. 

“No, he didn't.” 

“Go see,” Mike tells him. Eliot's mouth feels dry, and he drops the cigarette to the wet concrete, then smashes it underfoot. Just in case he takes a moment to straighten his vest and run a hand through his hair. The wet weather is making it frizz more than normal. Mike's chuckle is warm and amused as they separate and Eliot heads inside. It's early in the shift, and the drizzly cold rain has kept people from coming out. There are still plenty of them – maybe not enough to justify him, and Mike, and Marina all staying for their full shifts, but it's easy to spot Quentin on one of the bar stools. Eliot silently curses. He does owe Mike ten bucks, and his rent is due next week. 

His fingers find a clean Boston shaker, and he heads down the bar. As he gets close, he rolls the sleeves of his button-down shirt up past the elbows. Doing so leaves him free to rest his forearms on the bar when he gets to the shorter man's side. Quentin is, like last time, paying more attention to his phone than the people around him, so it takes him a moment to realize Eliot is even there. A blush creeps across the corners of his cheeks when Quentin realizes he's being watched. 

“Hi, you.” The beaming smile Eliot gives him is a hundred percent genuine. There's something about Quentin that elicits an honest response. 

“Hey, hi. I uh,” Quentin's hands fumble with the cocktail menu that he had been looking at before Eliot had found him. 

“Would you like me to make you something I think you'll like?” Eliot offers. Most people come in knowing what they are drinking, or look at the specialty cocktails and figure it out within a moment. It isn't often that Eliot just gets to mix whatever he wants. 

“Yeah, please. Just stay away from the top shelf stuff. I want to walk out of here with some money left.” Quentin's trying to joke, and Eliot laughs. 

“I wouldn't do that.” He assures him. “Give me some inspiration.” He suggests

“Um, you mean like a flavor profile or liquor?” Eliot hums in agreement. “Well, I.. lime I guess.” There are lots of drinks Eliot can make that have lime juice in them, and he starts by fishing a fresh lime from a jar of citrus. 

“Is it just you tonight? Or have the girls already left you to fend for yourself?” Eliot asks as he presents his concoction a couple of minutes later. He watches as Quentin takes a tentative sip, then a larger swallow. Clearly, it's a success. “Don't drink it all once.” He teases. “There's a fair bit of alcohol in there.”

I...” Quentin sets his drink down and tucks his hair back with both hands. “They aren't here.” He gives Eliot a glance before his eyes drop back into his drink. Eliot rests his arms on the bar again and leans close. 

“Did you come to see me?” He asks. He had meant the words to sound more playful, but they are soft and hopeful in a way he that he doesn't usually ever let through. Eliot has met this guy once, twice now, and he feels like a fool falling to pieces. 

“Yeah, I, it was, I figured it would be, um, busier. You know, like the other night.” The corners of his cheek flush again. “I didn't think you would have time to talk to me.” He confesses. Quentin's phone lies unlocked between them and Eliot scopes it up with long nimble fingers. “Hey!” Quentin protests.

“Relax, Q. I'm just adding my number, not going through your porn.” 

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Eliot taps in his digits and saves the contact information as 'Eliot W.' He adds a semi-colon and half a bracket beside his name, just to be a brat, then hands the phone back to Quentin. The other man laughs and gives Eliot a second of those thousand watt smiles. If Eliot weren't on the clock, he would probably lean across the bar and kiss him. “Are you going to stay a while?” He asks instead.

“As long as it's like this, yeah. This isn't too bad. I can handle this, as long as you don't mind me holding a bar stool hostage.” 

“It's fine with me. Unfortunately, I have to get back to work. If you need anything, just yell.”

“Sure.” Eliot moves down the bar to help a couple as they walk up to it. He's finishing with them when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He has to serve another group before he gets a chance to check it. There's an untagged text that reads 'Quentin's number.' Eliot can't stop the smirk that curves across his face as he saves the number identity just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will probably happen. I'm loving this fic with a passion. It's so much fun to write. I know Eliot is probably a bit OC, but he doesn't have QUITE the baggage he has in the show so he's a little lighter. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and critiques are welcome. If you see typos I beg that you help me out and make them known.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lull of a couple weeks Quentin makes a third trip to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I wrote more! I hope everyone enjoys it!

“Just tell him you want to fuck him,” Margo tells him as Eliot sets her refilled cocktail down in front of her.

“I don't think that will work with Quentin, Bambi.” 

“Sure it will. Look at you, what guy in his right mind wouldn't want you?” Eliot crosses his arms against the bar and leans across it to kiss his best friend's cheek. 

“You're a treasure, Bambi.” He murmurs. 

“I'm starting to wonder if he's actually real!” Margo tells him as he leans away. 

“If who is actually real?” Mike asks as he passes them. 

“This Quentin guy, I'm starting to think Eliot's imagined him.” Eliot laughs and leans back against the row of coolers behind him. He glances towards the door of the bar and the sheets of cold rain running off the overhang outside. The rain has kept the bar traffic down for the night, and it was already a night they are slow. His gaze shifts first to Mike, who has started rewashing glassware, so he looks busy, and then down towards Marina, who isn't trying to look busy at all. 

“He's real and moderately attractive,” Mike tells Margo.

“Well, he must be some kind of magician to have Eliot all tied in knots the way he is.”

“I'm standing three feet from you.” Eliot reminds both of them. He steps away from the coolers as a dark skinned young man approaches the bar stool next to Margo. 

“What can I get you?” He asks as the guy sits. Margo turns to give him a brief once over. Eliot can read the immediate disinterest in her eyes as the man leans in. 

“Hey, Baby.” Margo crosses her legs and smirks. She looks like a goddess balancing on the stool with a martini glass between her fingers. The guy doesn't stand a chance. Eliot can see the mirth lurking in her face, and he knows if they make eye contact both of them will start laughing. 

“Good luck with that, Princess.” Eliot murmurs mostly to himself as he walks down the bar to check on the pair of regulars who are sitting at the opposite end of the counter. He hasn't told Margo that he hasn't talked to Quentin in over a week. What had started out as regular texting has died to a trickle. Sometimes texts wouldn't get an answer for days. Eliot had basically stopped sending messages at all unless Quentin contacts him first. 

“Can I get that drink now?” The guy asks as Eliot is delivering the cocktails his regulars had ordered. Eliot glances back at Margo to see her leaning against the counter with a grin on her face.

“Tough break.” Eliot gives the guy a winning smile. “What would you like?” The man points to one of the beers they have on tap and Eliot gets a clean glass. “Do you want to start a tab?” 

“Sure.” Eliot can see in his face that he's debating if he can still win Margo over. A few people drift in from the cold over the next ten minutes, but it looks like the traffic is going to stay thin. 

“I'm going out with Marina to smoke,” Margo tells him as he rejoins her at her end of the bar. 

“Don't get too friendly with my competition, Bambi,” Eliot tells her as Marina walks alongside Margo. The woman has a pack of smokes and a lighter pressed against her phone.

“Don't worry, Eliot. You're still the one she'll be going home with.” 

“I'm allowed to go home with anyone I want to.” Margo declares. Eliot grins at her. They've shared an apartment as roommates since college. Margo is his best friend, and who she sleeps with is her business. The two women are laughing as they disappear and Eliot finds his usual spot against the coolers near the middle of the bar. Mike settles beside when he finishes with the glasses. His hands are buried in his jean pockets. He's close enough for their shoulders to bump. 

“You should come back to my place after our shift.” 

“Maybe.” Eliot agrees. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at his shoes. 

“El, you've been pining for weeks. He's been in twice. It's not going to go anywhere.”

“Yeah.” Eliot catches Margo's suitor waving his glass for a refill and Eliot pushes off the coolers to take care of him. He's only just rejoined Mike when he catches the swing of the door. With the sweatshirt hood up Eliot doesn't realize it's Quentin until he's unzipping the sodden garment and shrugging it off. It gets hung over the bar stool, and Eliot's mouth feels dry as he watches Quentin tuck damp locks of hair behind his ears. The hair stays put as the slick strands cling together. Mike gives him a push 

“Stop staring.” Eliot's fingers find a spare cocktail menu, and he slides it along the bar then under Quentin's fingers. 

“Hey, Q.” Up close Eliot can see the beginnings of dark circles under Quentin's eyes.

“Hi, uh, just something simple tonight.”

“Jack and coke?” Eliot asks because that's what Quentin ordered the first time he'd come in. 

“Yeah, sure. Oh wow, you remembered.” Quentin almost smiles, but then it drops away, and he just looks tired again. 

“Of course I remembered.” Eliot makes his drink and sets it close. Quentin brings it to his mouth and drains about half of it before setting it down and stirring what's left with a thin red straw.

“How have things been?” Eliot asks. 

“This week has sucked,” Quentin tells him bluntly. He finishes his drink and taps the side of the glass to indicate he'd like a refill. Eliot dumps out a little of the ice, adds more Jack than he's supposed to, and slides the refilled drink closer. 

“Are you okay?” Eliot doesn't know why he's continuing to torture himself. He should let Quentin drink off the bad week and go back to Mike's after their shift. 

“I'm not, I, my dad's pretty sick.” Quentin stares down into his drink. “And I've not...” Eliot leans forward against the bar so he can hear him better, which blinds him to Margo and Marina as they come back inside. 

“Who's this?” Margo purrs as she takes the stool beside Quentin. Quentin clams up as soon as she interrupts and picks up his drink, which he sips through the thin little straw. “Wait is this him?” Quentin's curious gaze slides to her. “Oh my god it is! You're Quentin, aren't you? Has Eliot told you he wants to fuck you yet?” Quentin's face goes as red as a tomato with embarrassment. Eliot's eyes widen in disbelief. 

“Go away, Bambi!” Margo ignores him and focuses her attention on Quentin instead. 

“Oh no. Look, kid, Eliot's been pining since he met you. I'm not putting up with it if you decide to wait another two or three weeks to come in and see him again.” Eliot can't stop the slight flush of color that creeps across his cheeks as Margo continues. “So either bang and get it out of your systems or at least go on a date so he can kiss you.” 

“Bambi please.” Margo slides off the stool. 

“You'll both thank me later.” She promises them as she heads back down the bar towards Marina. Quentin fumbles for his wallet almost immediately and Eliot stares at him in silent horror. 

“Q, don't go, please. She had no right to say anything.” He says quickly. He has to say something to salvage the situation because if Quentin walks out angry, he'll never come back.

“If sex is all you're interested in, forget it.” Quentin tosses some cash down and reaches for his hoodie. Eliot leans across the bar to grab his wrist. The rain drums rhythmically against the roof. If Margo has ruined this, then he's kicking her out of their apartment. 

“I like you, and yeah, I'd like that to happen, but I'd rather go on a date first and see if it leads anywhere.” Quentin reaches for his drink and brings it back to his lips. He drains most of it, then looks down at the hand still holding his wrist.

“Let me go.” Eliot forces his fingers to loosen, then drops his hand down against the bar top. Quentin leaves his hoodie draped across the chair and relaxed back into his seat.“I guess we could go out.” He agrees. 

“Okay.” Eliot lets out a relieved breath. A smile creeps across his face. Quentin's hair is starting to dry because some of it has fallen free into his face again. Quentin pushes it back with an annoyed huff. “I'm sorry about Margo.” Eliot continues. 

“I was wondering if her name was really Bambi or not.” 

“No, it's just a pet name I came up with for her in college. It stuck.” Quentin chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Do you give pet names to everyone?” Quentin asks.

“Only if I like them enough, Q.” A tired smile crosses Quentin's face, and he nudges his glass. 

“One more, then I should switch to water.” Eliot nods. He dumps everything and makes Quentin's new drink from scratch, then fills the second glass with water and ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, and kudos, and subscriptions are love! Please let me know what you think of the new addition!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stolen umbrella on a rainy night leads Quentin and Eliot to their first kiss and a magical moment that could mean so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be the final chapter of this, because I love where it ends and the promise that something good could follow. It's a world where my boys might actually get to make each other happy for a change. It's also tooth rotting FLUFF! Enjoy!

The cold drizzling rain outside helps make sure that the bar stays dead, which is unfortunate because Eliot could have used the tips a busy night would have brought. The small plus is that the slow pace gives him plenty of time to talk to Quentin. Something he isn't sure if Quentin appreciates or resents. 

“I'll be back in like, fifteen minutes,” Eliot tells him when it comes time for his first break. He tops off Quentin's water before he leaves and fishes out his cigarettes and lighter as he heads for the break room. Margo gives him a thumbs up as he walks past her. His manager is coming out as he waits to go in and the man catches his arm. 

“We're dead tonight. Just clock out and go home. I think Marina and Mike can handle it.” Eliot sighs, but nods, and turns to head back out to the bar. 

“I can guess from your face that they told you they're sending you home,” Mike says as Eliot passes the sink where he's washing glassware. 

“Surprise, surprise. I hope you get slammed an hour before last call.” Eliot mutters quietly. “I'm going to see if any of my open tabs want to cash out before I leave.” He doubts Quentin will stay more than minutes once he finds out he's leaving. Mike wipes his hands on his jeans and follows him down the bar, informing anyone who plans to stay that he'll take over their tabs. Some cashout, tip Eliot, and open new tabs with Mike. 

“That was a fast fifteen minutes,” Quentin says as they reach him. 

“We're dead, so my boss is sending me home early,” Eliot tells him. He feels just a little bit bitter, not only because of the lost tips but because Quentin is here, and Eliot likes it when Quentin is there. 

“It's not because you asked me out was it? I – well..” Quentin licks his lips and tucks his hair back behind his ears. “I'm not trying to get you in trouble. Um, I should cash out? Right? So you get your tip.” Eliot smirks at Quentin's awkward fumbling.

“It's not you. We're just slow tonight, and my new manager overscheduled. Mike can take over your tab.” Eliot indicates the shorter blond behind him, and he can see Mike wave out of the corner of his eye.

“No, it's, I'd rather cash out and tip you.”

“I can run his card while you grab your coat,” Mike tells him. He hooks his thumb towards the far end of the bar, where their boss is watching them. 

“Fucking asshole.” Eliot murmurs too softly for anyone but Quentin and Mike to hear. “Yeah, whatever. Sure.” He heads back to the break room, clocks out, and is yanking his coat up his arms when Mike joins him; there's a shot of tequila in his hand. The tequila gets given to him as Mike's hand slides into the back pocket of his jeans and Eliot frowns at the size of the bill roll he leaves there. “There's no way that's Quentin's tip.”

“And you would be right.”

“You can't give me your tips for the night, Mike.” 

“Sure I can. Ask him if he wants to go somewhere. Get drunk, for god's sake get laid!” 

“He's probably already left,” Eliot says as he throws back the shot. It's cheap well tequila, with no salt or lime to mediate the flavor, and there is an involuntary jerk in the muscles of his neck as he swallows.

“I asked him to wait because you might like to walk out with him.” Eliot feels his cheeks flush a little and tells himself that it's the shot and not embarrassment. Between Margo and now Mike, Quentin is going to think he's some kind of nut job. 

“I was going to go out the back, and smoke first.”

“Priorities, Eliot. Do you like this kid or not?” Eliot nods because he does like Quentin but he's worried that Margo has forced his hand too soon. He doesn't want to come off as pushy. Even though Quentin agreed to a date, Eliot doubts he will want to go anywhere tonight. 

Despite his hesitation, Quentin is waiting at the end of the bar when Eliot exits the breakroom. Even from a distance, Eliot can see the nervous tapping of his fingers. Margo has disappeared to smoke again, but she's left her umbrella behind so Eliot scopes it up as he passes her seat. 

“Your friend asked me to wait.” Quick fingers tuck the hair back behind his ears. Eliot resists the urge to catch them and kiss them. He'd like nothing more than to tangle his hands in Quentin's hair and kiss him.

“He thinks I should ask you to go somewhere,” Eliot explains. 

“Would you like to go somewhere?” 

“I kinda figured you would be annoyed if I asked tonight, considering everything Bambi said. I really do like you. I don't want to push my luck.”

“Maybe it's luck that you got off early on a night I showed up.” Quentin's eyes drop to the umbrella in his hand. “Did you take her umbrella?” Eliot twists the lavender handle between his fingers. Taking the thing is petty, but he's hyper-aware of how close she had come to almost ruining everything. 

“Yes?” A mischevious grin spreads across his face. “She's my roommate and my best friend. She won't mind, but let's go before she comes back and throws a fit.” The contradictory response earns a smile from Quentin, and he drags the hood of his sweatshirt up over his hair as Eliot gets the door.

Rain patters off the purple and white polka dot canopy as they walk down the street together and Eliot tries to hold the umbrella, so it covers both of them without invading Quentin's space more than he has to. He has no idea where they are going. They will be soaked in minutes without a plan. 

“So if you only have one date to impress me where would we go?” Quentin asks. The question makes Eliot freeze in his tracks. One chance to impress someone takes planning. It's dinner at a table you have to reserve, roses, and champagne, and requires more luck than Eliot has ever had in his life. Eliot can't produce any of that from thin air. 

“I guess I would ask you want you would enjoy doing most.” It feels like a silly sappy answer, but it's honest, and striving to please his partners is something Eliot always aims for. 

“That sounds like a cop-out,” Quentin says. Eliot reaches for his arm and drags him under the nearest awning big enough to shelter them from the rain, then spins Quentin to face him. 

“Who cares if it is?” Eliot sets the umbrella down and leans his shoulder against the ice-cold glass of the storefront window. “Fine, my first thought was dinner at the best restaurant I could afford, with chocolates, and roses and champagne that I can't, but I don't think you would be impressed by that. I don't believe you want the attention that going overboard would bring. I just want to spend the evening with you, doing something you enjoy, in hopes that you like me enough to maybe kiss me goodnight and call me again in the morning.” 

Eliot is sure he's blowing the one shot he has, then Quentin surprises him. He pushes back the hoodie and draws himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him square in the mouth. Eliot responds as soon as he processes that Quentin is kissing him. Long fingers of one hand comb through Quentin's hair and then curve to grip the back of Quentin's neck, while the other arm wraps around Quentin's waist to hold him close. Together they turn and, despite his coat, Eliot feels the icy press of the glass all along his back. 

He blocks out the shiver that races up his spine as he focuses all his attention on the smaller man in his arms. Quentin is like a small furnace against his chest. He fits there like he's the long lost, missing piece of a puzzle Eliot didn't know he'd needed. Quentin finally drops back to stand flat on his feet, and Eliot peers down into brown eyes he could drown in. Half of Quentin's face is cast in the soft glow of the nearest street light. When Quentin's thumb hooks to something behind them Eliot's gaze follows it.

“I think we should go bowling.” Eliot almost laughs, because his spindly frame isn't built for bowling, but there is a shy smile on Quentin's face, and Eliot gets the feeling that Quentin won't be much better at it then he will. It's just a close place out of the rain where they can buy liquor without deafening music and the awkward press of people. It actually sounds fun. 

“I would like that.” A grin, an honest one, like the one Eliot had been given before he'd even learned Quentin's name, splits across Quentin's face. Quentin's hand reaches down to scope up Margo's umbrella. Before Eliot can stop him, he's moving, and he barely takes a moment to look for traffic before he runs across the empty street towards the shelter of the bowling alley overhang. 

For a moment all Eliot can do is stare in shock and watch as Quentin taunts him by twirling the umbrella. The streetlights highlight the dots of mismatched sizes as they spin in slow circles. Eliot's not sure what he's stumbled into, but he loves it – there's magic in this moment of actually living, and he wants more of it. He's willing to drink it in like it's an expensive wine. 

He waits for a car to pass, and the street to empty again before he dashes across the lanes between himself and Quentin. They collide, giggling, into one another. Q doesn't complain as Eliot presses him up against the brick of the bowling alley wall to kiss him. Eliot can hear the soft flutter of the fliers taped to the brick as they blow in the breeze. This is life at its finest, a taste of sweet in an avalanche of bitter, and both of them seem willing to see where it will take them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, comments, comments! Come on now, those last paragraphs were inspired and I just love them! I hope everyone else did as well!


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